


Her name is Princess

by annagarny



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-16 11:23:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14810432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annagarny/pseuds/annagarny
Summary: Derek has a big, empty house that he shares with his cat, so of course, Stiles moves in.





	Her name is Princess

Derek liked to pretend that he had no idea how all of this had happened. He was lying, of course, because he knew exactly how it had all unfolded, and when pressed he would place the blame firmly at Cora’s feet.

At which point his baby sister would laugh, roll her eyes and throw something at the computer screen.

“You’re a softy, Derek, you always have been.” she’d tell him, from another continent, her voice breaking up over the at times less-than-reliable Skype connection. “All I did was tell you that I’d found a cat that didn’t hiss at me and you decided you needed one as well.”

Princess rules the house, these days.

Not the loft, not anymore. After he came back from his road-trip with Braeden that ended with them having a knock-down, drag-out (mostly verbal but still intense) fight in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart in Arkansas, he did not come all the way back to California to move back into the loft full of awful memories and still smelling vaguely of mildew. Instead, he went to a realtor and found himself a two bedroom apartment right in the center of town and put down a deposit so he didn’t have to live out of a duffel bag in hotel rooms any longer.

Six months later he found a house for sale and, uncaring for the fees, broke his lease and moved in. 

Scott liked to point out (unhelpfully, _shut up Scott_ ) that Derek’s new place was very strategically placed. He was within three miles of every single pack member who lived in Beacon Hills, his home backed onto the Preserve - just like the Stilinski’s place - and within a few weeks of the purchase he had figured out a daily running route that took him by everyone’s front doors as the sun rose.

It was almost a year after he’d bought the house when he realized he was lonely, and the fateful Skype call with Cora happened. She’d answered the call with a large, orange, fluffy cat in her arms and Derek had double-checked the connection to make sure he’d actually called the right person.

“You hate cats!” he said, in lieu of a greeting, and Cora had rolled her eyes at him.

“Yeah, well, this one loves me.” and the ensuing conversation about how she’d acquired Toto (“I didn’t name him!”) had led to Derek going two counties over to find a shelter that was big enough that he could wander around without every single cat hissing at him - there were enough scents and unfamiliar people around at this shelter, that the cats were pretty laid back.

Of course, the one that approached him and started to rub her face on the bars, purring like a V12 engine was a fluffball of epic proportions, a black long-haired girl with a sparkly yellow collar and the name ‘Princess’ by her picture on the wall of the enclosure.

She came home, with about eight hundred dollars worth of equipment and promptly curled herself up in the center of Derek’s California king bed, tucked her tail under her nose and fell asleep.

Without much effort at all, Princess began to take over Derek’s routine - instead of getting up before sunrise and just going straight for his run, he had to first feed the Lady of the House, or he’d come home to a shredded throw pillow and vomit on his boots. He also learned quickly that failure to scoop the litterbox similarly resulted in a mess all over his rug. 

Their afternoons were often spent sprawled on the rug, in the large patches of sunlight that stretched over it through the large picture windows. It was the middle of winter, so the sunlight was actually a welcome relief from the chill, and laying on a warm patch of carpet was as appealing to a werewolf as it was to a domestic cat. It was during an impromptu nap one day that Derek heard a familiar engine turn down his street and come to a stop with a squeal of brakes outside his home. He didn’t open his eyes or get up, knowing that Stiles had palmed his keys two weeks ago and made his own copies, just stayed where he was, pinned to the rug by the weight of Princess on his solar plexus, sunshine warming his toes while the whole house was filled with the smells coming from the crock-pot - he’d started a chili that morning and if the scent in the air was anything to go by it was going to be  _ epic _ when he finally got to eat it that evening.

The sound of the key turning in the lock made one of Princess’ ears twitch and Derek felt his own left foot twitch in reply, she didn’t actually move, taking her cues from Derek’s lack of response to the sound of Stiles coming up the porch steps and then traipsing through the house.

“Dude.”

“Don’t call me dude,” he answered, not opening his eyes or removing his hand from where it was carding through Prin’s fur.

“Dude you have a cat.”

“Her name is Princess.”

Derek felt rather than heard Stiles’ flailing response, and the way Princess tensed up and stopped purring indicated that he’d done  _ something _ to alarm her.

“You’re scaring the cat, Stiles.”

“ _ Princess? _ ”

“The volunteers at the shelter named her, and it’s engraved on her tag. Besides, she is a Princess.” he pointed out, finally cracking an eye.

“What are you even doing here? Don’t you have a home of your own?” he asked, shifting a little so he could actually make eye contact with the younger man.

Stiles waved a dismissive hand at that, going over to the sofa to flop onto it, prompting Princess to curl up and tuck her nose beneath her tail where she was still happy on Derek’s stomach, the afternoon sun keeping her warm.

“Dad has a date, Scott has a date. I’m kind of sick of living at home, actually. Can I move in here?”

Derek turned his head and felt his eyebrows climb towards his hairline.

“I’m not going to be subtle, man,” he admitted, leaning forward. “You have five bedrooms here, plus that basement. You know I can cook, and you know I’m working enough to pay you rent. Dad won’t let me go to the Academy until I’ve been independent for at least a year, which I still think is  _ super _ unfair-” he broke off and waited, while Derek laid there in the sunshine.

Derek considered for a moment, before realizing that Stiles was taking his silence the wrong way as his face fell, and he started to squirm in his seat. Before the younger man could get up and leave, like he was moving to, Derek reached out a hand and caught him by the ankle.

  
“You’re not having the basement. You can have one of the bedrooms that is connected to the bathroom, upstairs. And you don’t have to pay rent, I own this place outright. Just… cook dinner a couple of nights a week and help with the groceries. I can get you a garage door opener programmed this week.”

He paused, smiling up at Stiles as his expression went from dismayed to confused to elated within a few seconds. 

“If you want help moving your things this weekend, you’ll have to arrange for Scott to do it because I’ve got to take Prin back to Sacramento for her check-up at the vet,” Derek added, not really wanting to help move furniture. Sure it was easy, but it was also annoying.

Stiles’ response was to drop himself off the couch and launch himself at Derek, scaring Princess away as he almost fell on top of Derek where he lay, Princess barely escaping with her tail in the air, making for the stairs while Stiles hugged the prone werewolf.

“You’re the  _ best, _ Derek, you won’t regret this!”

“I already do, you almost squished Princess. You’ll have to open her a tin of tuna to get her to forgive you.” Derek groaned, the wind having been knocked out of him by Stiles’ sudden descent.

Stiles didn’t answer, just snuggled against Derek for a long moment before freezing as his heart rate went through the roof.

He scrambled backward, hands up, stuttering an apology as Derek pushed himself up onto his elbows, frowning.

“Why are you apologizing?” he asked, confused, as Stiles’ skin was stained with a blush rising from his collar to his hairline.

“Dude I just attacked you. And I was, like, scenting you or something-”

Derek raised a hand to stop him, reaching out as he sat up to grip one of Stiles’ shoulders. 

“Stiles, I’ve invited you to live here, I think that I can handle a hug. Scott, on the other hand, is probably going to be pissed off.” he pointed out. 

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re going to smell like me, all the time. This whole house has been mine alone for a solid year, you moving in will mean you’ll smell like the house, which smells like me. Add in sharing the laundry room, sofa… I mean, he’ll want to rub his face on you every time you see him.”

Derek decided right then to stop talking because he might be projecting  _ just _ a little bit.

“He does that anyway,” Stiles said, waving a dismissive hand. “And if he gets pissy about it I’ll just point out that I  _ offered _ to go in on a two bedroom apartment with him and he insisted that he needed his ‘space’, so I ended up back with Dad. Well. Here.”

Princess chose that moment to come back into the room and found the boys sitting side by side, leaning against the sofa. She sniffed suspiciously at Stiles before flicking her tail and ignoring him, turning her attention to Derek and rubbing her ears against his thigh as he scratched between her shoulders.

They sat for a few moments in a soft silence, the warm sunshine on their toes before Stiles shifted and got to his feet with a grin.

“Ok, I’m going to tell Dad about this move before you change your mind - no takebacks!” he added, shooting finger-guns at Derek before leaving the house at top speed. Derek just shook his head, waiting for the moment, which came when Stiles was in the front hallway and skidded to a stop.

“I know you already have keys! Don’t pretend you need new ones, I’ll get the garage door opener programmed and you can pick it up tomorrow night!” he called out and smiled as Stiles shouted his reply. 

“You’re the best!”

Princess jumped up onto the couch and claimed the largest cushion as was her due. Derek just scratched behind her ears and sighed, thinking that the decision he’d just made was either the best or the worst thing he’d done in a solid decade.

 

_ … two weeks later… _

 

_ Eggs _

_ Bread _

_ Chicken strips _

_ Ground beef _

_ Potatoes _

_ Pumpkin _

_Aubergine_ **\- dude wtf is aubergine?**

_ it’s eggplant, Stiles _

**Then write eggplant maybe?**

**Pop tarts**

_ We’re not getting pop tarts _

**Mountain dew**

_ I’m password protecting the shopping list from you _

_ Yogurt _

**Good luck with that I installed the app bro**

**Chocolate chips**

**Confectioners sugar**

**Peanut butter**

**Canned tomatoes**

**Garlic**

_ Hiding things like sugar and chocolate chips between sensible stuff isn’t going to make me buy them, you know _

**I need them for those cookies!**

_ Fine, fine, but we’re getting dark chocolate, it tastes better _

 

In the week and a half, Stiles had been living with him, Derek had been, well, intrigued to see how much his life  _ hadn’t _ changed. He still got up with the sun, fed Princess and went for his run, but instead of listening for Stiles’ heartbeat a mile and a half away, he woke up to it at home and then used it as a guide to get back there in time for breakfast. He still started the coffee machine before he headed out, but instead of having to pour himself a cup when he arrived, he’d find one waiting. And somehow Stiles knew that the caramel syrup he’d  _ thought _ was hidden in the back of the cupboard was for him to lace his first coffee of the day with. 

 

Stiles also, apparently, took the whole ‘help with the groceries and cook sometimes in lieu of rent’ thing  _ very _ seriously. To the point of Derek realizing that a shopping list app had appeared on his phone - how did Stiles know his passcode? - that allowed them to discuss the shopping list as they each added to it.

 

“What even are you going to use the  _ aubergine _ in?” Stiles asked, coming down the stairs and using his voice instead of the app to communicate, making Derek put his phone down on the counter and look up at him, smiling.

 

“You’ll see, and you’ll probably love it,” he said, before taking a sip of his coffee.

 

“Hmm.” Stiles agreed, bringing his empty coffee cup over and nudging Derek aside with a casual hip to get to the dishwasher. 

 

That was another thing. In less than two weeks, Stiles had become extremely comfortable with casual physicality. Flopping down next to Derek on the couch while he watched  _ Brooklyn 99 _ on Netflix, moving him aside in the kitchen, a hug when he got home from work. It was nice, and Derek was still getting used to it. It had been a long time since anyone (other than Princess) had touched him without some kind of intent behind it. 

 

This morning was no different than any other, Derek had been up and gone before Stiles had so much stirred, loading the coffeemaker and setting it going before he fed Princess and stepped outside. 

When he got back forty minutes later, there was a cup of caramel-laced coffee by the maker, and Stiles was sitting, bleary-eyed, at the counter with his own, sipping at it almost viciously. Derek knew better, by now, than to speak to him before he’d had at least two cups, so instead of addressing Stiles in any way, he picked up his own coffee and headed for the refrigerator, pulling out eggs and bacon. 

Stiles had gotten up to go upstairs for… something… and Derek had checked the shopping list with the intent to go to the store after breakfast, while Stiles showered and got ready for work. Then they’d argued via app, and now Stiles was, apparently, feeling human enough to nudge Derek again as he poked at the bacon sizzling in the pan.

“Is that the hickory bacon?” Stiles asked, knowing that it was. It smelled divine to Derek, and he knew that even Stiles would be able to smell that it was different than the usual bacon.

“Yes, it is.” Derek told him, indulgent, and nudged him back. “Are you hovering because you think I’ll give you a piece before it’s ready?”

“No, I just want to smell it- you and your wolfy nose are hogging all the good smell.”

Derek, feeling particularly smug, took a deep inhale through said  _ wolfy _ nose just to annoy Stiles, and instead of just bacon, he caught a lungful of contented Stiles, and without thinking it through, he turned his head and pressed his nose against the back of Stiles’ ear, inhaling again and feeling his eyes roll back a little.

Stiles, instead of rearing back like Derek expected, reached up and caught him by the back of the head.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, big guy are you ok?” he asked, voice low and soothing like he was approaching an unfamiliar animal.

Derek nodded, then paused, realizing where he was with his face buried in Stiles’ neck, but didn’t want to pull away because Stiles, to him, smelled better than the bacon.

“Want to explain?” Stiles pressed, and Derek shook his head.

“Please come up here?” Stiles asked, and Derek slowly drew back, aware that his face was on fire as he avoided Stiles’ gaze for a few long moments, eventually, their eyes met, and instead of judgment and fear, he was met with a small smile and something else.

“So, feel free to tell me if I’m wrong, but, uh. I kind of want to kiss you right now.” Stiles said, and Derek felt his eyes go wide before he was nodding in agreement, leaning in as Stiles did too and when their lips met it was like an exhalation, a breath that had been held for too long, and fireworks all at once. Stiles still had his hands on either side of Derek’s face, and Derek’s fingers were gripping his hips where they stood while the bacon kept cooking, as they kissed in the early morning sunshine. 

A minute or so later, they were interrupted, not by the bacon starting to burn - even while kissing Stiles, Derek was sensible enough to reach down and turn off the burner - but by Princess, announcing her arrival and bemoaning the emptiness of her food bowl with a head to the shin.

Derek pulled away from Stiles, laughing, as the cat got between them.

“How about we continue this after we’ve fed Princess?” he asked, and Stiles nodded, ducking his head a little bashfully.

“Definitely - I think we have a lot to continue, yeah?”

Derek smiled and reached up to cup Stiles’ cheek in his palm, kissing him one more time.

“We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“MROW!”

He looked down to find a disgruntled cat glaring up at them.

“After we feed the cat.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> (Fest Mod Note: this work was created for the 2018 Sterek Smooch Fest. Please follow the fest on [LJ](https://sterek-smooch.livejournal.com/) and [TUMBLR](https://sterek-smooch.tumblr.com/) to see the rest of the fabulous creations! Thank you!)


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